Mikael woke up the next morning to the sound of Fia’s voice. He was lying in his tent, rolled up in his sleeping bag, feeling cold. The spring sun hadn’t been up long enough to warm the day yet. His mind slowly separated the sounds. Birds. Boiling water. Fia.

“I think we were just lucky and didn’t run into any big animals. We’re not interested in hunting anyway. We’re looking for a rare bird.”

Mikael sprung up and hurried out of the tent.

He popped out still on all fours next to Fia. A round-faced woman sat across the fire, her brown hair in a tight pony tail. A sword and bow beside her. Arrows on her back. And a flashy chainmail peeking from the collar of her black robe. Armor. A flicker went through her eyes as she saw him. Surprise. Or recognition.

“This is my companion,” Fia said. 

Mikael met her gaze and saw the need for caution he felt reflected back.

“I’m Sarah,” the hunter said. She barely had any eyebrows, and her thin lips looked thinner stretched into a smile. Sinister.  

“Nice to meet you.” He unfolded to his full height, and sat down next to Fia.

She had her robe on, sword and satchel beside her.

“It’s chilly,” he said and reached inside the tent, grabbed his robe, and pulled the weapons to the mouth of the tent.  “So, what brings you here?” He slipped on his robe. 

“I’m a hunting enthusiast,” Sarah said. 

“A trophy hunter.” It wasn’t a question.

“That’s not a term we like to use.” Trophy hunters killed for sport. Most also killed for a bounty. 

“What are you hunting?”

Fia stiffened. 

Sarah gave a dry laugh. “I think you know, Mikael.”

Fia kicked the kettle, spraying her with scalding water. She dodged most of it. Mikael grabbed the nearest weapon—a crossbow, empty. He hurled it at her. She slipped past it, straight into Fia’s kick to the throat.

Sarah buckled, gasping for air. 

“Fly!” Fia cried, grabbed her saber and shot into the trees. Mikael climbed up and took off. A horn blew behind him. She wasn’t alone.

He tracked Fia’s red robe among the trees as he flew. An arrow flew past him. Then two more. All mere inches from his shoulders. They were aiming for his wings. He broke into an erratic flight pattern.

Easy. He had to slow down for Fia anyway.

He glanced down and cursed. She’d stopped. He rolled backwards, folded his wings and shot down head-first through the trees. Fia was on the ground. He grabbed a branch with both hands and swung himself, landing in front of her.  

She held up a dart. “I can’t feel my leg.”

Paralyzing poison.

Mikael grabbed her arms and pulled her up. “Climb out!”

He lifted her up. Sarah closed in behind, bow in hand. He grabbed a branch and climbed up, pulling Fia with him.

“Hold tight!”

Fia wrapped her good leg and both arms around him, and he took off. 

---

Fia punched her limp leg and felt nothing. An arrow deflected off Mikael’s wings. They hadn’t shot at her with real arrows.

“They’re not trying to kill us.” 

“No, they want to capture us,” Mikael said. 

“Abraha?” 

“No, it’s not him! It’s worse. I—I—I’m sorry.”

It took a beat for Noah’s words to come back to her. She is not a child.

What had he done? How could he not tell her if it were this bad?

She swallowed the anger and traced the ruffling treetops behind them. “There’s three of them.” 

“I can outrun them—Sabre, Fia!” 

They were headed straight for a fourth hunter with a nocked arrow. 

Fia cursed under her breath and drew her sword. The hunter released the arrow. Mikael rolled to his side. Fia flipped around, dealing a long gash on the hunter’s arm and torso—enough to put her out of the chase.

“Don’t hold back!” Mikael barked. “They won’t show us this mercy!”

What mercy? Had she gone any harder she would’ve killed the woman. Her jaw clenched. “Who the hell are—”

A pole-blade flashed just ahead. Fia pulled in close to Mikael, and he swerved.

Too late.

It sliced through his lower left wing, splitting it in two halves.

They both screamed as Mikael spun, grazing the trees. He soared and steadied; but slower and closer to the tightening circle behind them.  

Mikael breathed shallow. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Not that much!” 

“Leave me behind. You’re the one they’re after!” 

“They’re after us, Fia! We’re the joint arrival!” 

She hadn’t heard that term in years. Nobody had pursued them for it in the Capital. Why now? Another arrow whizzed by.

“Then at least they’ll have only one,” Fia said.

“They’ll use you to get to me! Come up with a better plan!” 

Fia looked around. Four parties were following them now. She spotted the broken tree line slicing the forest. “Fly across the river!” 

“We don’t stand a chance in that forest with just one sabre.” 

And only three good legs. They had to disappear. Fia grabbed Mikael’s hair and turned his face to her. “We need to drown.” 

---

Sarah was a professional bounty hunter, renowned for deliver targets—dead or alive. Her success rate had earned her the command of this hunt, even if she found a team to be more annoyance than help. But not this time. This time, they had come through; a clipped wing had turned the hunt. The only requirement of their rather generous employer was to capture them alive.

Sarah knew her targets were headed for the river. She sped up the arrows. It wasn’t easy hitting dragonfly-type wings while running through the forest. Took a lot of hits to disable them, too. She wasn’t sure why he wouldn’t fly higher. Not strong enough? Afraid he’ll drop the girl? She wasn’t complaining, whatever the reason.

She slid to a stop at the cliff. Mikael flew down the river instead of across. Understandable. Even expert hunters like herself would think twice crossing this river, and these were just kids. They’d solved another problem, too. The water was merciless and she wanted them alive. Clever. She smiled, slinging the bow across her back, and ran along the river. 

Mikael’s fatigue showed now. He was swaying. Fia slipped from his arms. He grabbed her hand. He was struggling, failing. Sarah cursed and scoured for a crossing. Mikael swung to his side. Fia pulled herself up. Her hand slipped…and she fell.

Sarah growled. The girl was half the bounty.

Mikael bobbed like an insect, trying to fish Fia out of the raging river, oblivious or uncaring of the rapids ahead. He was going to drown with her. Sarah cursed and pulled out a rope with no idea what to do with it. She was already running as fast as she could and even her best throw wouldn’t reach them.

The rapids pulled Fia in. Mikael dove down after her. 

The river turned behind the cliff, and she lost sight of both her prizes.

---

Just after the bend, Mikael soared. He wound the belt around his arms, its other end on Fia’s waist all along and pulled with everything he had. Fia climbed up as soon as she was out of the water. He wobbled, then steadied and turned over to put his body beneath hers. 

Fia straddled him and drew the sabre tied to his waistband. Mikael slipped off the sleeves of his robes, and his wings did the job of flinging it into the river. Fia slashed off half of her robe and it followed. 

Mikael took the sabre. “Another wing?” 

“Are you crazy?”

“You’re right. It has to be the same one.” 

“Mikael, no!”

“Don’t worry, I barely feel it.” His wrist flicked and the sabre swung around. 

---

Sarah heard a scream, muffled by the sound of the river. Just a few more meters, she slid around the bend and stopped. They were gone. Just gone.

She caught a glimpse of red in the jagged boulders. Then purple. She sped, unable to keep pace with the river. The red reappeared again, already too far. Then from the corner of her eye, she saw another purple object. A broken bloodied wing floated atop the water, whirled, sank, then surfaced again. Sarah slowed to a stop. He couldn’t fly with just two wings.  

The others arrived moments later. “The trench is up ahead.” one of them said. 

“Let’s head back,” Sarah said. “We’ll check down the river from Jade Basin.”

---

Mikael and Fia held their breath, whirring in place under the edge of the cliff where the hunters stood, glad for the roar of the river.  He was shivering, his face pale. Slashing the stub of the broken wing made the ruse believable. But it was too close to his body.

He held her leg so she wouldn’t wrap it around him. He was in pain. Tears burned in Fia’s eyes, rolled down her cheeks.

It took hours for the hunters to leave and they waited even longer to be sure, then Mikael started along the ridge, below the line of sight of the cliff. It was late afternoon when Fia spotted water curling inward into the cliff. 

It was a trench, perpendicular to the river. Not as deep as the river surface, it was dry but deep and wide enough to make crossing difficult. Fia breathed out a relieved laugh. Mikael couldn’t muster a smile .

“Set me down,” Fia said. 

“It’s too exposed,” he said. “Let’s go to the other side.”

The dry gravel in the trench offered no place to hide. 

They continued down the river and Mikael’s flight got steadier. But he still stayed low, a few meters below the top of the cliff. Fia didn’t know if he couldn’t go any higher or was just holding it off.

She spotted a ledge. “Let’s stop down there.” 

“We can’t climb. Just hold on.”

He hugged her and soared, several feet higher than the Forest floor, likely more than he meant to. But there was finally ground beneath them. Fia braced for the landing. He was coming down too fast. She let go of him so he’d have less to carry.

Crack!

She slipped out of his grip and fell down in a heap. Mikael’s eyes widened in pain, and his mouth opened to scream, but he made no sound. His shin was bent. Fia clasped her mouth. He fell backwards; she lunged to grab him, but he slipped through her hands, falling over the cliff. She crawled forward after him, heard a short whirr of his wings. Then it stopped. 

---

Dara turned the dagger in his hands, hardly ten inches from hilt to tip. He’d bought it from Dragon’s Breath four years ago. A small smile crept on his face as he traced the scarlet stones on the sheath with a finger. A bout of laughter from the children playing in the street pulled him out of his thoughts. They were a rare sight for the Garden, the youngest no more than two, the oldest still shy of ten, but the people in this small Five Sisters town were used to them.

The post office door behind him opened and he slipped the dagger back in his robe. It was Pekka, here to pick a letter. Few others could read Pekka’s face, but one look and Dara knew something was wrong.   

“What is it?”

“Call for search and rescue,” said Pekka. 

“From whom?” 

“Akira.”